


Anything You Can Do...

by echoes_of_another_life



Category: Angel: the Series
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-05
Updated: 2012-12-05
Packaged: 2017-11-20 08:14:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,284
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/583192
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/echoes_of_another_life/pseuds/echoes_of_another_life
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A challenge is a challenge...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Anything You Can Do...

Anything You Can Do

“Call that a scar, ya great puff?” Spike raised one leg and promptly brought his foot down on Angel’s desk with a thud, faded denim pulling tight across his ass in the process as he edged the material over well-worn Doc Martins. “See that? Now that’s a scar, bled for hours that bloody did, had to go out and find me a nice warm after dinner treat just to compensate for the blood loss.” He glanced over his shoulder at Angel, ignored the fact that Angel’s gaze was fixed a little higher than the area Spike was showing off and arched his eyebrow challengingly.

Angel frowned, and wondered, not for the first time how the hell he’d gotten himself into such a stupid predicament to begin with, oh right, Spike was involved. “Spike, this is ridiculous, comparing battle scars like fledglings …” Angel sighed, caught the grin on Spike’s face and knew, just knew he wasn’t getting out of this anytime soon.

“What’s the matter Hot Shot? Afraid I’m finally gonna beat you at something?” Spike grinned, pulling his trouser leg back down over his boots and turning to lean against Angel’s desk, arms folded, waiting.

Angel shook his head, walked over to where Spike stood and reached for his hand, placed it on the back of his head, his hand covering Spike’s smaller one, fingers interlaced as he brushed Spike’s hand back and forth through his hair. “Feel that? 1765, hit with a two by four and you can still feel the lump.”

Spike closed his eyes, luxuriated in the feel of the softness as a few loose strands at the base of Angel’s scalp slid easily between his fingers, Angel’s hand holding tight to his, for the briefest moment before he straightened, stepped back and looked Spike in the face.

“Well?”

“Well what? Oh the bump, yeah not bad, not half as impressive as the one on your forehead, Darla give you that with a two by four as well then?”

Angel lifted his hand to feel for a lump, caught himself, noted the grin on Spike’s face and looked at Spike with what usually passed for a scowl, his now tousled hair slightly lessening the desired effect.

“Got me a bigger one …” Spike watched as Angel’s gaze flitted downward, just briefly before tapping his head. “Government chip, remember?”

“I seriously hope you don’t expect me to feel that? It’ll take me a week to get through the gel or wax or whatever it is you use to create that helmet effect you call hair.” Angel folded his arms, mimicking Spike’s earlier pose.

“You’re a fine one to talk,” Spike mumbled, feeling his hair, almost wishing he had a reflection, not that he thought for a second his hair actually looked like a helmet, he just liked proving Angel wrong.

“Well, I got shot with a poisoned arrow once,” Angel retorted, a smug look on his face as he waited for Spike to try to come up with something better.

“I got staked, just above the heart too, hurt like hell it did, not to mention the fact it ruined a bloody good shirt.” 

“Yeah, by a fluffy Golden Retriever from Iowa if I heard right, mine was a Slayer.” Angel smiled, thinking he rather liked this game after all.

“Hey, that doesn’t count, shot from a distance, not like hand to hand combat or anything and while we’re talking close proximity to Slayers …”

“Spike?” Angel warned, taking a step closer.

Spike lifted his hand; wet his lips with the tip of his tongue before running it slowly over his fingertip, catching it between his lips briefly as he sucked on it and watched Angel. Spike raised his hand once more and ran the tip of his finger lightly across his eyebrow, accentuating the scar.

Angel noted the smug look on Spike’s face, the way he hooked his thumbs into the pockets of his jeans, his fingers splayed across the zipper wantonly, almost daring him to go one better. He tugged his shirt from his trousers, roughly, unbuttoned the top button, continued to the next, his gaze never leaving Spike’s until his shirt hung from his broad shoulders. 

“And? I’ve seen your chest before, nothing new there.” Spike teased, looking at Angel’s chest, noting the smoothness, save for the patch of dark hair that began just below his navel and disappeared into the waistband of his pants.

Angel pressed his hand to his chest, stroked it lightly across the ridge of muscle, brushing the shirt aside and exposing the faint scar, which was almost unnoticeable unless you were looking closely. Spike stepped closer, almost closing the gap between them as he ran his finger lightly over the scar, tracing its outline.

“Gun shot, close range _and_ at the hands of a Slayer,” Angel breathed hoarsely.

“You’re gonna have to do better than that Peaches,” Spike laughed, lifting his head, almost colliding with Angels’ jaw as looked up into brown eyes framed by dark lashes that partly obscured the fleeting look of desire. 

“Uh …” Angel muttered almost forgetting for a moment why he was stood there, so close to Spike, shirt unbuttoned, flesh exposed to Spike’s wandering hands.

“That’s not a war wound you can actually claim, seems to me, a couple of ghosts, minus the whole pottery wheel thing and a demon that was wearing your face …” 

“That’s not fair, Spike.”

“What? You wanna actually admit to playing the birds part in that little scenario? Fine, it wasn’t Angelus, it was you, all possessed and girlified.” 

“Fine, if you want to make the rules up as you go along.” Angel pulled at his shirt, throwing it at Spike’s feet, edging forward until he stood over Spike; motionless for second, hands on his hips, as he looked down at him. “There, ran through with a sword, close range, soul in tact and close, _extremely_ close proximity to The Slayer, beat that!”

Spike slid one hand slowly up Angel’s chest, trailed a path to one nipple and circled it with the tip of his finger as he breached the gap between them. He continued up along his collarbone, fingers stroking slowly, teasingly around the back of Angel’s neck to tangle in his hair as he shifted his hips in an attempt to get closer. He rose up slightly, his teeth nipping gently along Angel’s jaw, his tongue dipping into the hollow of his throat, around the outer shell of his ear, as he pressed against him, his voice nothing more than a whisper. “Angel, I couldn’t beat that if I tried but I’ll shout you a round at the bar with the twenty bucks Gunn owes me for getting you out of that shirt.” 

Spike tugged at Angel’s trousers, popped the button and slipped his hand past the barrier of material …

“Later …”

**I Can Do Better …**

The ache in Spike’s voice was like a physical caress that reached out and wrapped Angel in its heat, spread through his body and made his cock twitch against Spike’s searching fingers. He turned his head and claimed Spike’s mouth, his kiss slow and unhurried.

Spike twisted his fingers tighter in Angel’s hair, moved his other hand higher, just slightly, skirted his hand along Angel’s hip, his fingers holding tight to bone as he wrapped his tongue around Angel’s groan of protest. He stepped back as Angel ground his hips forward, slid his hands down Spike’s back, slowly, cupped his ass cheeks and tried to breach the distance as Spike grinned against his lips and laughed.

“Spike?” Angel moaned dragging his mouth free and sliding it along the column of Spike’s throat, nipping at his shoulder through the material of his shirt as Spike stepped forward, hard against Angel, forcing him to take one-step back then another until he felt the hard edge of his desk press against his thighs. Angel watched the slow smile that curved Spike’s mouth as he reached for Spike’s T-shirt, pulled it free from his jeans, up his flat stomach, his fingers grazing along Spike’s ribs, he felt the shudder, saw the muscles in Spike’s jaw clench, and smiled back as Spike willingly lifted his arms and let Angel pull his T-shirt over his head.

“And not a hair out of place.” Angel grinned, lowered his head and caught Spike’s lower lip between his teeth, hooked his fingers into the pockets of his jeans and pulled him forward, roughly, until he felt Spike’s hips flush against his, just long enough to feel Spike’s arousal brush against his own. He leaned back, just a fraction, eased his hip up slightly and sat on the desk behind him, pulled Spike with him until he was standing between his thighs, his eyes wandering over hard muscles and pale skin and wet his now dry lips. 

“Your move …”

Spike reached out, ran both hands up Angel’s thighs, felt muscle respond to his touch, tighten then relax, his thumb gliding up Angel’s inner thighs as he splayed his fingers and continued upwards, his gaze coming to rest on the bulging hardness, still evident despite Angel’s pants being loose and open. He slid both hands lower, just an inch and groaned as the loose material followed suit, revealing bare skin, lower still as Angel placed the palms of both hands on the desk and lifted his hips. 

Spike glanced upwards, acutely aware of Angel’s gaze as it followed the movement of material and saw the tip of Angel’s tongue touch his bottom lip, he reached out, his fingers brushing lightly against Angel’s jaw, grazed his thumb across his lip and felt the wetness. He traced a path from his throat, along Angel’s collarbone, down his chest to his nipple, circled it with his finger before lowering his head.

Spike’s mouth was moist, hot, as it closed around his nipple and Angel groaned, cupped Spike’s ass cheeks bringing him closer as Spike grazed his teeth across the sensitive peak and flicked his tongue back and forth. Angel gripped Spike’s ass tighter, his fingers digging hard into muscle as he pulled Spike closer still, lifted his hips, straining for contact and he could have sworn he felt the smile that tilted Spike’s lips at his response. Angel groaned, torn between letting him continue and wanting, needing him closer, he plunged his hands into Spike’s hair, hauled him upwards roughly, caught his lower lip between his teeth, drew it into the warmth of his mouth and sucked. He shifted, his foot pushing against the floor, his trousers slipping lower over his hips as he edged backwards onto the desk, taking Spike with him until he sprawled across Angel’s chest, crushed Spike’s mouth against his own, parted his lips and plunged his tongue inside. 

Spike moaned into Angel’s mouth as their hips collided and Angel thrust upwards, urging their bodies closer, moved against Spike and Spike felt him thick and hard, despite the barrier of denim still between them. He felt the brush of smooth wood beneath his hands as he lifted slightly, tried to take back some control as strong arms reached around him, slid down his back to cup his buttocks, aggressively, forcing him back down and new the game was over. 

He writhed his hips against the onslaught of Angel’s mouth, his hands, which only gripped him tighter, almost to the point of pain as Angel bit down on his lip, sucked hard on his tongue and groaned and Spike wanted more than ever to get out of his jeans. Not just to feel flesh on flesh but because he was so damn hard, the heavy press of the material against his erect cock had gone way past pleasure and was beginning to resemble pain. He eased his hand between their tightly pressed bodies, snaked a path down Angel’s chest, tried to make a space for himself as Angel bent one knee and lifted up, into him. Spike felt Angel tense as he brushed his fingers against Angel’s cock in his haste to reach the button on his own pants and heard him growl low in his throat. 

Angel lifted, slid out from beneath Spike and turned, holding tight to Spike as he rolled them across the desk, the phone clattering to the floor as he swept his arm across wood in an attempt to make more space for himself and came down on top of Spike, pinning him to the desk beneath him. “What’s the matter, Hot Shot, gone soft in your old age?” Angel mimicked as he looked down at Spike sprawled beneath him.

“Just help me out these bloody pants, before they cut off my circulation,” Spike groaned and glared as Angel grinned down at him.

“If memory serves me right, Spike, you don’t exactly have anything even closely resembling a circulation,” Angel laughed.

“Yeah, try telling that to my dick.” Spike reached down, felt for the button on his jeans, lifted his hips and pulled, roughly, saw the look in Angel’s eyes as he brought his knee up slightly, pressed his thigh firmly against Spike’s erection, buried his face in the curve of Spike’s neck and breathed,

“Tell me when it hurts …”

Spike felt Angel’s tongue caress his throat, felt him hard against him, his weight heavy as he rocked their hips together and he tightened his arms possessively around him. Pleasure, pain, he didn’t care, he just wanted, he lifted into Angel, moaned low and throaty, his booted foot scraping hard against solid wood sending something heavy to the floor as he tried to gain better access, tried to get closer.

Finally, Angel shifted, pushed down hard on Spike’s shoulder, keeping him in place as he tore at the pants that kept him confined and groaned as Spike’s arousal surged upward, brushed against his hand and Angel felt the wetness already present. He lifted his hand, closed his eyes, wrapped his tongue around his finger, tasting Spike and heard him groan. He curled his fingers around Spike’s, smiled, forced his hands up over his head and held them still with one of his own. He shifted his weight over Spike’s outstretched legs, tugged at his jeans with his free hand as Spike lifted his hips, cursed under his breath as he yanked them down only to have them catch on Spike’s boots. 

Spike caught the heel of one boot with the toe of the other and pushed, heard the thud as it made contact with the floor and then repeated the action and listened as the other followed suit. He lifted one leg as Angel nudged his knees apart, and moaned when he felt his weight settle between his thighs. Spike shuddered as his cock brushed Angel’s, as Angel’s fingers brushed teasingly down his side, skirted along his ribs, past his hip, stroked his thigh, slipped underneath his leg, just above the underside of his knee and pushed against it. He tried to pull his hands free but Angel only held them tighter, arching one eyebrow and shaking his head as he lifted Spike’s leg up over his shoulder and turned his attentions to Spike’s nipples. Spike groaned as Angel took one deep into his mouth and sucked greedily, grazed the tip with his teeth, pushed hard against Spike, thrusting his hips upward, Angel’s shoulder forcing Spike’s leg further back until his knee was just below his chin, his hands held tight in Angel’s. He knew he could probably pull them free if he wanted but what he wanted was to feel Angel inside him, he lifted his hips, felt Angel’s cock brush against his entrance, felt the wetness against his ass cheeks …

“Okay, you’ve proved your point, you win. Now just hurry up and fuck me, please,” Spike breathed.

Angel entered him in one swift move, felt Spike tense, just for a second before his inner muscles clenched tight around him, before Spike lifted into him. Angel withdrew slowly, all the way, and then thrust forward, deeper, harder, spreading Spike’s legs wider. He released Spike’s hands and felt them slide down his back, cup his buttocks, forcing him deeper as Spike lifted into each thrust, urging him down, holding him tight. He gripped Spike’s hips, held him still and thrust into him more forcefully, felt Spike clench his muscles tight around him, increasing the sensation, saw Spike’s eyes darken, heard him groan, whisper his name, urgent, and felt him dig his fingers tightly into the ass muscles as Spike pushed against Angels’ hands and bucked his hips upward to meet each thrust.

Spike welcomed Angel’s weight, reached up, bunched his fingers in Angel’s hair pulling his head down to meet his lips as the pleasure began to slowly build and found himself on the receiving end of a kiss that almost devoured his mouth. He welcomed Angel’s tongue, sucked hard on it as it sparred with his and was rewarded with a deep throaty moan. He lifted his hips to mirror Angels’ thrusts and felt Angel tense, bite down hard on his tongue until he tasted his own blood, felt his body rush to meet the explosion, as his insides were flooded with Angel’s release. Spike went rigid, felt the wood beneath him press hard against his back as Angel thrust into him, harder, faster, welcomed it all as he felt his own release take over, he tore his mouth free of Angel’s, cried out and gave in to the feel of escalating pleasure as it coursed through him.

Angel felt Spike’s cock go rigid against the friction of each thrust, felt Spike’s muscles clench around him as his own orgasm crested, rocked his hips forward, slowly, closed his eyes and moaned softly as the last of the spasms caused his legs shake slightly. He felt Spike douse his stomach in a stream of liquid, heard him cry out again, watched his pleasure as it softened his features, caught his scent, musky and fragrant, felt Spike lift into him and swallowed hard. He slid his hand up the curve of his jaw, rubbed his thumb lightly along his swollen lips, dipped his head and stroked his tongue along the faint, swollen bruise already forming on his lower lip, watched as Spike’s eyes open slowly and sucked in an unnecessary breath at the smile that Spike cast in his direction. 

Angel lifted his hips, slipped free of Spike and could of sworn he saw a brief look of loss in Spike’s eyes, he lowered his head, rested his forehead against Spike’s just briefly, took a deep breath in, letting it out slowly.

“No Spike, you win …”

Spike closed his eyes as he felt Angel ease away from him, felt the cold air lick against his sweat soaked skin as he stood, he turned his head, wanting to say something and his smile quickly turned to laughter.

“What?” Angel asked a mock frown on his face.

“You couldn’t even remove your pants.” Spike grinned and rose up on his elbows as Angel bent to pull up the trousers that pooled around his ankles, almost covering his shoes completely.

“Speaking of pants.” Angel grinned back, fastening his trousers and reaching for his shirt, quickly buttoning it and snatching up Spike’s jeans off the floor and draping them carelessly over his shoulder as he walked towards the door.

“Hey …” Spike jumped up from the desk as Angel opened the door and looked over his shoulder.

“Keep your twenty bucks Spike. I’ll shout you a round at the bar with the fifty Wes owes me for getting you out of these.” He dangled Spikes jeans in one large hand, grinned and closed the door behind him.


End file.
